It's Up in the Air
by ChelsieSouloftheAbbey
Summary: When Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes end up as neighbors on a flight, it all looks like smooth skies ahead. But when things go wrong, it could only mean one thing: ONLY ONE ROOM AT THE INN. Inspired by a tumblr prompt; complete modern fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Charles had been daydreaming when the voice came over the intercom at last, and he strained to hear over the loud din at the airport's gate.

" … passengers for Business Class only. Please have your passport and boarding pass ready."

_Finally,_ he thought, sighing. The flight had been delayed due to high winds and storms in Chicago, and while he'd managed to doze off a bit in the much quieter airport lounge, that felt like ages ago. Charles wanted nothing more now than to be in his seat with a glass of wine and what he hoped would be a better meal than what the airport had to offer.

He queued up with the other passengers, greeted the gate attendant with a nod, and handed her his boarding pass.

"Oooh, a proper one," she said, scanning it with a smile. "Don't see many of those these days."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Let's hope they never do away with them altogether." He took his items back from her and headed down the jetway, thinking that if the day ever came where a scanned code on his mobile was the only way to board a plane, his days of air travel just might be over.

By the time he made it to his seat, most of his section was already full. Charles found a spot in the overhead for his carry-on before taking his seat and removing a book, notepad, and some headphones from his briefcase. It was only when he placed the leather bag beneath the seat in front of him that he realized the spot beside him was still empty. He knew he'd never be lucky enough to have such a long flight with no neighbor, but he took the small advantage of settling himself on the shared armrest nonetheless.

Charles was halfway through the first chapter of his book when a couple of bags were unceremoniously plopped down on the seat beside him, startling him. But when he looked up at their owner – a rather frazzled-looking petite woman in a business suit that seemed slightly rumpled – any comment he might have had died in his throat. She was, in a word, _gorgeous._

"Of course not," she was muttering, standing on tiptoes and rummaging through the overhead bins near their seats. "The one time I'm late and it _would _be a full flight. Damn."

He was just taking in the fact that her auburn hair, which was falling out of whatever arrangement she had it in, seemed damp, when she looked at him. Her eyes were a _stunning_ shade of blue, and he was rather distracted by their brightness.

The woman cleared her throat and pointed to the compartment where Charles had placed his own bag. Her lips were pursed, and he realized she'd said something.

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you think there's room in that one? There's none over here whatsoever." She paused, then reached up and tucked a loose lock of hair back behind her ear.

Her clipped Scottish brogue took him by surprise, but he managed to put down the book and unbuckle his seat belt quickly in order to stand and rearrange the compartment's contents a bit. "I think I can manage to get it in this one." He held his hand out and took the bag from her. "Not terribly big, so it should work."

"Helps being six foot tall, I'd imagine," she chuckled.

"Six foot three," he clarified, closing the bin.

Charles could have sworn he'd felt the woman's eyes on his back, but by the time he turned around she was taking her seat.

She got settled, then faced him once more.

"Thank you, Mr …" Clearly she was at a loss, but her smile was the best thing he'd seen all day.

"Carson," he answered, and he was amused to see her extend her hand to him in thanks; he shook it, his ever-observant nature taking in the perfectly manicured short nails and the softness of her skin. "Charles. And the owner of the pink bag would be Mrs …"

The woman hesitated just a bit before replying.

"Hughes," she said. "Elsie Hughes."

"Well, Mrs. Hughes. Welcome aboard."

* * *

Elsie couldn't believe her bad luck. The closing had run late, which ended up being fine because her flight had been delayed. But then, in the six seconds between when she placed her _suitcase _in the taxi and then made it to the door to put _herself _in the taxi, the skies had opened and the rain nearly soaked her through. Cursing her timing, she only ended up more irritated by the air conditioning that was blasting in the taxi, and she had to ask the driver to turn it down before she froze to death.

Collapsing back against the seat, she ran through everything one more time. Her hand was clenched tightly over the handles of her pink tote bag, her sharp mind running through the entirety of its contents and reassuring herself she had everything. She hadn't expected the attorney to have had any of Becky's things in her possession, but then again Elsie _had _forgotten a box in the attic when she'd moved out of Joe's house.

_Joe's house._ She wondered when she began thinking of it as that, and not as _our _house.

"Probably when Ivy moved back in," she muttered, and she saw the cabbie glance in the rear-view mirror.

"Sorry, ma'am?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Just talking to myself."

"Sure thing, ma'am." He paused, taking a corner carefully in the pouring rain. "Waze* says seventeen minutes to O'Hare."

"Thank you."

The last year had been such a blur, and Elsie was only now pulling herself out of it all, getting back to the person she used to be. Splitting with Joe had been amicable, despite how it had all come about, but losing Becky a month later – followed by _Joe's _sudden death only four months after that – had caused Elsie to dive head-first into her work. But nearly half a year of eighteen-hour days, seven days a week most weeks, had caused her to crash and burn. An event planner for a major hotel chain, Elsie quickly came to realize she needed a break. She'd approached her boss and cashed in on six weeks' worth of accumulated holiday time, set her assistant up to take charge of all the events that were to take place while she'd be gone, and put the house on the market. Ivy hadn't been pleased with that, but Elsie couldn't find it in her to care anymore; after all, the woman had abandoned Joe when the cancer really set in. Besides, Joe had possessed the foresight not to put Ivy's name on the property anyhow. Ivy had gotten her month's notice, and Elsie accepted the first offer that came through.

_And here you are,_ she thought. _Heading home to figure out if it's where you belong._

The taxi arrived, and Elsie tipped the driver and thanked him after he deposited her suitcase on the sidewalk. She grabbed the handle and hustled in, grateful for the TSA pre-check status that enabled her to zip through security and get to the gate quickly. By the time she got there, however, the crowd to board was a nightmare.

"Running a bit late for Business Class," the attendant said sympathetically. "Caught in the storm?"

Elsie placed her phone on the scanner until it capture her QR code. "Was it the wet hair or my sunny disposition that tipped you off?"

The woman smiled kindly. "You've got plenty of time to relax now. Enjoy your flight, Ms. Burns."

Elsie nodded her reply, cringing inwardly at the use of _Burns_. She kept meaning to change back to her maiden name – had planned to when she and Joe had divorced, actually – but she'd never gotten around to it. It would have to be a priority when she got back. She just didn't like the sound of it anymore. She bore poor Joe no ill will, but the need for a fresh start was a pressing one.

When Elsie finally made it on board the plane, she knew at a glance that the overhead compartments, still hanging open, were already bulging. She always traveled without much, but this time she had the pink bag with her as well, which she hadn't dared check lest her luggage not be transferred properly to the second leg of her flight. She located her seat and plopped the bag and her brown work satchel down on it, then stood on her tiptoes and stretched as high as she could to see if there was any magic she could work to find room in the compartment above her head.

"Of course not," she muttered. "The one time I'm late and it _would _be a full flight. Damn."

She turned her attention to her seat-mate and paused for a second. He was a rather tall, broad gentleman, maybe her age or perhaps a few years older, and quite good looking. Her eyes focused on, of all things, his very bushy eyebrows, and his eyes quickly found hers. She was a bit embarrassed to have been caught out, although he seemed a bit unfocused.

"Is there room in one of those?" Elsie asked, pointing at the bins across the aisle from where the man was seated.

He didn't seem to hear her, and so she cleared her throat a bit.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"Do you think there's room in that one? There's none over here whatsoever." A lock of hair fell out of her French twist, and she absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear.

She couldn't figure if he was perturbed at having been interrupted or just distracted, although he didn't seem cross, which Elsie took as a positive sign given the long journey ahead of them. She watched as he stowed his book in the seat-back pocket before him, unbuckled his seat belt, and stood to look.

"I think I can manage to get it in this one."

Elsie picked up the pink bag and folded the top over, then handed it to him.

"Not terribly big," he added, "so it should work."

Elsie watched happily as he tucked the bag carefully into the compartment.

"Helps being six foot tall, I'd imagine." She couldn't help staring at the man. There was something about him that was rather impressive to her, some combination of his size, his features, his deep voice, and the overall class that he exhibited.

"Six foot three," he clarified.

She watched him close the bin and hurriedly turned her attention from her neighbor and back to her seat, adjusting the seatbelt and pulling her satchel up onto her lap. Once he'd seated himself again and buckled, Elsie turned to him and offered her hand, a greeting and thank you rolled into one gesture.

"Thank you, Mr …"

"Carson," he answered, and she couldn't help but notice how his large hand fully encompassed her own smaller one. "Charles. And the owner of the pink bag would be Mrs …"

She almost uttered _Burns, _but stopped herself.

_No time like the present, Elsie._

"Hughes," she said, not bothering to correct the _Mrs_. "Elsie Hughes."

"Well, Mrs. Hughes. Welcome aboard."

The dashing stranger – _No. Charles Carson, _she thought. _A stranger no more. _– smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Good book, Mr. Carson?" she asked, nodding towards it.

He pulled it out of the pocket and turned it over so she could see the cover.

"Dickens!" she exclaimed. "Not what one usually sees being read on a plane."

"It's a long flight, so I thought it would be good for a reread," he replied. "This is a favorite of mine, although I like nearly all of his works."

"Ah." Elsie _hated _Dickens, but it wouldn't be polite to tell him that. "I'm afraid I'm rather more boring over here: some work to finish, followed by whatever choice selections the airline has loaded into their movie bank."

Just then, the cabin bell beeped and the pre-takeoff announcements began. Charles and Elsie stopped their conversation to listen intently, each taking note of how the other paid close attention to what they were being told despite undoubtedly having flown many times prior. As the plane began to back away from the gate, they followed the safety instructions attentively as well.

"Can never be too safe," Elsie commented when the presentation was over.

"Agreed."

She smiled over at him, a gesture which he returned, and Elsie found herself wondering if his eyes really were green in spots or if it was just a trick of the lights.

* * *

***Waze: SatNav app that's popular in the States.**

**This story has been sitting for a while, waiting for tumblr and fanfic's milk-and-hope to have her birthday. And she did - AGES AGO NOW - so this comes with my shameful tardiness and with very best wishes for her sweet self. **

**I hope you've all enjoyed this first chapter. Please leave a little review if you're so inclined. xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone for such a warm welcome for this story! I hope you all continue to enjoy it just as much as we move forward. Short update this time but I promise to make up for it. Let me know what you think if you're so inclined. xxx**

* * *

It was when the cabin crew came around with the drink cart that Charles knew he'd lucked out having the lovely Elsie Hughes as his neighbor.

"Red wine, please," Charles ordered, and he looked to Elsie. She nodded, and he turned his attention back to the flight attendant. "Two," he amended, and he passed Elsie her glass.

"Thank you."

She sniffed at it, then glanced over at the bottle.

Charles held his glass out to her and they clinked. "To an uneventful flight," he toasted, and she hummed in agreement.

He watched as she sipped the wine, noticed how she allowed it to roll around in her mouth a bit before swallowing it.

"It's no Margaux," she said, "but needs must."

"You must be a fellow wine connoisseur," Charles said. "Not many people talk of a good Margaux."

"I'm no connoisseur, but I do have to have a fair knowledge of wine in my profession." Elsie paused, not wanting to take up all of his time with needless chatter. But as he seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate, she continued. "I work as an events planner for a chain of hotels. Large events, such as corporate banquets, weddings, conventions, that sort of thing. It helps to know a bit about wine, and friends of mine actually own several vineyards that I try to buy from when I can."

Charles smiled. "Well, isn't that something? I work in the wine industry."

"Do you? For whom, if I may ask?"

"House of Grantham,*" he replied instantly, and Elsie's eyes grew wide.

"You're joking," she uttered.

"I never joke, Mrs. Hughes."

"But – But that's Cora's company," Elsie stammered. "Cora and Robert Crawley. They're the friends I was talking about. How's that for a coincidence?"

"A grand one, indeed," Charles agreed. "Robert and I go way back, although we lost touch for a while. But he reached out when he needed some help, and his offer happened to come at a good time for me. I was between jobs and … well, I needed something new, let's say. I'd passed the Master Sommelier the year before, and he brought me on board."

"Master Sommelier. Now I am impressed, Mr. Carson. How many attempts did it take you? Cora tells me it's extraordinarily difficult."

"Three," he admitted, "although I was ashamed to have just missed it on the second. But only nine people have ever passed it on their first go, so I didn't think it was terribly shabby. Just the timing of it all was tricky, because it's only offered once annually in the UK and only twice a year in the States. I didn't make it the first try in England, so I came over here six months later and redid it. Missed that one, went back to England, passed, and then Robert offered me the job."**

"So you're his main man, so to speak. You must be; I know for a fact they only have one Master Sommelier on staff. Cora mentioned that to me before."

"I suppose one could say that, sure. It's become more of an office job in recent months, due to the climate and something of a slowing down of new varieties hitting the markets, not to mention someone new who's recently joined the business and has been able to assume some of my duties. I used to travel a lot, visit other vineyards and – well, let's just say I learned quite a bit about what they had to offer."

"You were a spy?" Elsie gasped, but her smirk gave her away.

"I was a researcher," Charles clarified, and Elsie laughed. "Vineyards keep their secrets closely guarded, but any sommelier worth his weight can taste a number of wines and hazard a guess as to their general ingredient makeup."

"How long ago did you join the company?"

"Oh, let's see." Charles settled further back into his seat. "Eleven years, I think, maybe twelve. I was half involved in it all on a casual basis for quite a while. Yes … twelve."

"I just can't believe we've never met. Were you at Sybil's wedding? You must have been invited, but I'm sure I'd have remembered seeing you there."

Charles noted a faint blush appear on her cheeks as the meaning of her own words sank in for them both.

"No, actually," he replied, looking away and fiddling with his wine glass. "Had an awful case of flu, of all things. Laid up for a week. I couldn't even leave the house."

"Oh, that's too bad. It was a lovely ceremony."

"Smaller than Mary's, I've been told," he said.

"Much, from what I gather. I wasn't at that one."

"Oh, it was a grand affair," he said, somewhat proudly from what Elsie could gather. "Complete with horse-drawn carriage."

"Such a shame for that marriage to have ended so tragically," Elsie murmured, and the sadness in her voice was almost palpable. Charles gave her a moment, but as he watched, she drew her lip under her teeth and seemed to go somewhere quite far away in her mind.

He took another sip of his wine, the silence not bothering him much, and let her gather her thoughts.

"Sorry about that," she said after a full minute had passed. "It's been a long week."

"Understood."

He gazed down at the paperwork on the tray before her. "And that's probably not going to help. Is that the rest of the 'long week'?"

"It's the _end_ of the long week," she chuckled, and he was happy to hear it. "I'm off for the next month and a half, more or less, but these forms all have to be double-checked and sent off to my assistant once I get to London."

Charles laughed. "It would appear we're going to be together for longer than I thought," he said. "I'm connecting in Dublin as well."

"Well, Mr. Carson," Elsie said, smiling up at him. (_Hazel_, she decided. _They're hazel, with a bit of grey around the edges._) "Perhaps we should order some more wine?"

Charles tapped on the media screen to summon the flight attendant, thinking that Mrs. Elsie Hughes was the most pleasant seat mate he'd ever had on a flight.

The next couple of hours were smooth and, for both Elsie and Charles, quite lovely. They spent the time drinking wine, consuming and discussing the dinner served on board, and then moved the conversation from there to favorite books, types of film and music they each enjoyed, and a bit about their childhoods. Elsie told Charles about Becky, and Charles opened up about having been an only child and always wanting a sibling to move through life with. When Elsie mentioned something else about family – a gentle inquiry into whether he was going home to one of his own in London – Charles explained that he lives alone now, has done for some time since he and his wife had divorced years ago. He mentioned that she'd run off with another man, a former mate of his, and Elsie shared a bit of her own story involving Joe, Ivy, and how that had all ended up.

"So I'm heading back to London to see if I still feel I've got a home there, I suppose," she said. "I sold Becky's flat there when she passed, and I've just sold the house I shared with Joe – of course, I told you that earlier – so I've lined up a rental for a month and I'll see where that puts me."

"How will that work with your employer?" Charles enquired. "You're based in the U.S., aren't you?"

"In part, but it's an international chain. There's been some shifting of personnel abroad, and there's an opening for me should I choose to take it. Seniority is most definitely an asset, and one which I fully intend to take advantage of if I feel the need. The change would mean working with some of the smaller boutique properties instead of the larger hotels in the States, but I think I'd enjoy the change, truth be told."

"As long as you still get your wines from the same place," he said lightly, and when she looked up at him, he smiled indulgently.

"I wouldn't dream of going anywhere else," she replied softly. "Not now that I know I'd be working with you."

* * *

***Really hope no one's used that "House of Grantham" before, but with over a thousand Chelsie fanfics out there, I didn't look it up. I can easily change it if need be. x**

***Based on research into the exam, this is accurate. A friend of mine has passed it and it took her several attempts. Very exclusive club, however, and the title carries a great deal of weight. And I've no idea if the timing allows one to go back and forth between countries as Charles has done. *shrug***


	3. Chapter 3

**An update for you all, but with special wishes going out to meetmeinstlouie, who celebrates her birthday today. Love you, sweet friend! xxx**

**My thanks to you all for your support so far with this one - especially to the guests to whom I cannot respond individually. ~CSotA**

* * *

When their conversation had died down a bit, Elsie popped up to use the restroom and Charles settled back into his book. She returned to find him in spectacles, which she secretly felt were incredibly endearing.

Charles saw her attention drawn to them, and he tapped the rim. "Low light," he explained. "And we're not getting any younger, are we?"

"Well, we're not _old_." Elsie's reply was quiet, but the mirth in her eyes shone through. "At least, _I'm _not," she added with a wink.

"No, you're not," he murmured, watching her take her seat. "You should try to get a bit of rest, which I intend to do myself once I finish this chapter."

"I hope I can. Sleeping on a plane is tricky sometimes, isn't it? Just when you've gotten comfortable, some announcement or bump or meal service happens and you're sunk!"

Ten minutes later, much to Charles's amusement, she was fast asleep … on his _shoulder_, of all places, and he didn't have the heart to move her. One of the flight attendants walked down the aisle to deliver an extra pillow to someone and winked at him, and he felt himself flush. However, what was the harm in it? Mrs. Hughes seemed like a nice enough woman, and they had wonderful friends in common. It wasn't improper, and it wasn't as if he didn't have it on fairly good authority – namely, Cora Crawley's opinion – that she was a good person.

_Besides, what could possibly come of it?_

He carefully closed his book and reached up to turn off the reading light over his seat. Then, very carefully so as not to disturb her, he shifted slightly, turned his head a bit on the headrest, and was soon fast asleep himself.

It was the turbulence that woke Elsie, causing her to jump awake from a sound sleep. Her neck had a slight crick in it, and she realized upon rubbing her cheek and feeling a slight imprint from … something … that she must have fallen asleep on Mr. Carson's shoulder. She was slightly embarrassed at that, although it was the best sleep she'd ever managed on a plane. She wrestled with that thought for a few moments as her neighbor awakened beside her.

"A bit of a bumpy ride ahead, I think," she said quietly, and Charles turned to look at her, smiling.

"At least we got a bit of sleep, then."

Elsie took her phone out of her satchel and checked the weather.

"You can use that on here?" Charles asked, which made her smirk.

"WiFi on board, Mr. Carson," she replied, pointing to one of the cards in the seat pocket in front of him.

"Hmph."

Elsie found his reaction curious, but she'd gathered from their previous conversations that he was something of an old-fashioned man at heart, so she let it go.

"Dublin looks to be a bit stormy now," she said, concerned.

Charles looked over her shoulder as she tapped to check the radar. "Oh my, that's quite a bit of yellow now, isn't it?" he remarked.

"Explains the bumps," she replied, and just as she did so, the entire plane seemed to jump in a way that almost caused her to drop her phone. Immediately thereafter came the announcement from the cabin, reminding everyone that the seat belt light was on and informing them that they were in for a rather turbulent approach to Dublin.

"I hope to god no one is ill," Charles murmured. "That … Well, won't be good."

Elsie silently agreed.

* * *

It took a bit longer than planned because of the fog, but the plane finally managed to land safely. Elsie swallowed and took a deep, cleansing breath before unbuckling her seat belt, and then she leaned her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I am, but I think that's the worst landing I've ever experienced – and I travel quite a bit for work."

"Same here." Charles unbuckled his own seat belt and stood up carefully, cognizant of the other passengers who were beginning to mill in the aisles. He retrieved their carry on luggage from the bin above and handed Elsie hers.

They exited together, Charles following Elsie down the aisle and onto the jet bridge. When they got to the end, he groaned.

"Look." He pointed up to the monitor, and he and Elsie stepped out of the way to let others exit the plane.

"Oh, dear," Elsie commented, scanning the board. It was full of rapidly-changing statuses – none of them delays, she noted, but cancellations.

"There won't be another flight til tomorrow, I bet," another passenger complained, and Elsie met Charles's gaze. He raised an eyebrow, nodded in the direction of the flight attendants' desk.

"My thoughts exactly," Elsie said quietly, and she joined him in the already-growing line. They waited patiently as passenger after passenger tried to rebook cancelled flights for later on today, but their patience began to dwindle with each passing minute, for it appeared that "standby only" was becoming the rote answer. Elsie felt badly for the airline staff, knowing they were bearing the brunt of everyone's upset. When she (and, by her side, Charles) made it to the desk, the attendant gave a half-hearted, very fatigued smile.

"Good morning," Elsie said to him. "I suppose it's relatively hopeless at this point to find a flight later on today? We were supposed to connect on to Heathrow."

"I'm afraid so, ma'am," he agreed. "We're booking lodging in the city for everyone, if you'd like me to add your names to the list?" He looked expectantly at Charles, who was still standing beside her, and Elsie smiled.

"That would be wonderful," she sighed, knowing it was the best she could have hoped for – and that it would undoubtedly be better than spending the next many hours in an airport lounge. She could use a good nap, she thought.

The attendant took her information, then Charles's, and added them into his computer. He gave her the name and address of the hotel, along with a small paper that contained contact information for the airline should any issue arise with the booking itself.

"Everyone will be assigned rooms upon checking in," he told her, "and there are shuttles outside, near the taxi rank. Or there will be soon, at any rate. Of course, you're welcome to take a taxi if you prefer."

Elsie and Charles thanked him before heading through immigration and then down the escalator to baggage claim, where the crowd was understandably large and, in general, not in the best of spirits.

"Care for a cuppa?" Charles asked, nodding to the coffee shop at the end of the baggage area.

"Bless your heart," was her reply. "Large, doubly strong, and with a bit of milk," she added, reaching for her purse. But Charles reached out and touched her hand, stilling it.

"My treat. It's going to be a very long day, indeed."

Elsie had to agree, and she thanked him kindly. "I'll keep an eye out for yours," she told him. "Let me guess … it's black?"

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Correct. With a small, dark red ribbon tied at the handle. It's rather heavy though, now that I think about it. Perhaps I should wait."

"Nonsense, Mr. Carson. Besides, it's probably not any worse than mine. I'm staying for an entire month, remember?"

"Alright, then," he agreed, and she watched him head for the long queue – watched him for a bit longer than necessary, she realized with a jolt, and she blushed faintly as she turned from him and put her attention back to the carousel, which had just begun to spin and accept the first couple of valises from the plane.

Elsie checked the handles on each black bag, noting none that had the ribbon she was looking for. She was so intent on finding it, not to mention exhausted, that she nearly missed her own bag coming in her direction; she pulled it off, and then chuckled as _his_ bag was the third next to pass by. She grabbed that one as well, then deftly maneuvered it all back to the small bench in order to allow other passengers in. A glance to the coffee shop (and someone's six-foot-three stature peeking over the other guests in the queue) told Elsie she had a few minutes before he'd return, so she took the only empty spot on the bench and took out her phone, checking a few work emails and then smiling as Cora's name popped up in her text alerts.

_Hope you land safely. Just saw that weather map on the telly! X_

Elsie thought for a moment, then typed a reply.

_Landed fine, thx. Met a friend of yours on the plane - a Mr. Carson – my seat neighbor. Can't believe we never met before. _

The phone buzzed again almost immediately.

_Quite dashing, isn't he? :-)_

Elsie stared at that for a moment. It was very like Cora to be playing matchmaker, and Elsie wanted none of it …

… mostly.

_He was a true gentleman, and very interesting to talk with. And now we're stuck in Dublin for a day because of this weather. I'll check in soon. X_

There was a bit of a pause, and then the phone buzzed again.

_Tell him we said hello, and that he should bring you to Robert's favorite Dublin spot. Love to you both! X_

Soon after, she saw Mr. Carson approaching again out of the corner of her eye. She tucked her phone away and stood, reaching for the cardboard drink caddy her was holding out.

"It's scalding," he warned her. "Here …"

"Good to know. Thank you." Elsie smiled up at him, taking their beverages off his hands as he slid his briefcase over the handle of his suitcase. In the bright light of the baggage claim area, she could see with stark clarity how tired he was. "We should see about getting to the hotel soon."

"Agreed. I think we could both use a bit of a rest. Here, let me take those again."

"I've got them for now," Elsie replied. "You navigate our way out of here and I'll make sure the drinks are safe. You're taller, and it'll be easier for you to see over the crowds."

It was sensible, which his fatigue-muddled brain appreciated.

"Oh! I almost forgot," she added after a few moments. "Cora said to tell you that she and Robert said hello. She was surprised we'd met."

Charles glanced over at her as they walked through a set of automatic doors. "And?" He had a feeling she meant to say something more, but hadn't.

"Oh, nothing," Elsie replied, shaking her head.

"Well, now I _must_ know," he said with a smirk.

They stopped by the taxi rank, neither of them particularly interested in sharing a shuttle with twelve other people who would also be overtired and, more than likely, grumpy.

Elsie blushed faintly. "She said something about bringing me to Robert's favorite Dublin spot, whatever that means. Which is wholly unnecessary and which we'd likely not have time for anyhow."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "That's a splendid idea, actually. After some rest, mind you."

"And what is this place, if I may ask? Which I feel I must, if it appears I'm being brought there."

That gave him pause. "But not against your will, I hope?"

"Well, that depends on what it is," Elsie replied patiently, and she stifled a yawn.

"It's a restaurant. Rather charming, and relatively quiet," he answered carefully.

"Oh! Well, in that case, it's a date," she said lightly, and she reached for her cup, removed the lid, and carefully blew over the surface before taking a tentative sip. "Ow," she muttered, drawing her lip beneath her teeth and soothing it with her tongue. "That _is _hot."

"I did warn you," Charles replied, somewhat breathless as he watched her unabashedly.

In the taxi on the way to the hotel, it occurred to them both how strange it was that each seemed to assume from the moment they'd seen the cancelled flight on the monitor that they'd be one another's companion for the layover in Dublin. Neither one mentioned that aloud, however … and neither one was sure how it made them feel.

* * *

**Would love to know what you thought! X**


	4. Chapter 4

**With a small nod to my travel buddy. Also, I realize that they'd likely be without luggage at this point because it would have been set to transfer directly to London. But I couldn't put them through that particular hell, so bear with me and suspend your disbelief.**

**Many, many thanks to all of you for the spectacular reception you've given to this story. Over halfway there with this chapter and looking like two more to follow, perhaps three, depending on cooperativeness of the stars (both the celestial and the ones in this story). xxx**

**CSotA**

* * *

The taxi pulled up at the hotel and Charles exited first, holding his hand out to assist Elsie from the car. She grasped his fingers gratefully, happy to be out of the cab and thinking drivers in Dublin could give drivers in London a run for their money in terms of harrowing, breakneck speeds on narrow roadways.

There was already a queue at the registration desk, and Elsie immediately became worried.

"It's not even close to any kind of check-in time," she said, stifling yet another yawn. "Is it too much to hope for that they not only _have_ rooms, but that those rooms are available _now?_"

"I wondered the same," Charles admitted. "But I'm not certain the airline could have sorted out accommodations for all those passengers."

"We'll see."

The queue did move quickly, and when it was their turn, Charles motioned toward the desk. "Ladies first."

Elsie smiled at the young man behind the desk. "Good morning."

"Good morning, ma'am. Welcome to Dublin."

"Thank you."

"We've got our staff working very hard to prepare rooms for all of you," the hotel receptionist continued. "Might I have your name?"

Elsie provided it, and she watched as he typed something. She yawned as surreptitiously as she could manage and glanced at the clock.

_9:42_

"It's your lucky morning, Ms. Burns," he told her, and Elsie could have sworn she heard Mr. Carson's eyebrows rise. "The second-to-last room we have belongs to you. It's a suite with a nice view of the city."

Elsie's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry? That can't be right. We came straight here from the airport. Surely there must be a number of rooms available?"

"I'm afraid it _is_ true," he replied. "There were several flights that were to connect in Dublin, apparently, and none of them managed to head out this morning. We've been flooded with people needing accommodations for the night." He looked over her shoulder at Charles.

Charles took a step forward. "Charles Carson - who is currently very happy to hear you've one more room available."

The receptionist looked from Elsie to Charles and back again, puzzled, and then the penny dropped. "Oh, I'm sorry, I assumed you were together."

Elsie flushed as Charles replied. "No ... we're not." She felt his tone was a bit short with the younger man, but she let it go. They were all overtired and annoyed, and of course the young man at the desk didn't know any of them from Adam.

"I believe those two rooms have just been cleaned," the receptionist said. "You can head directly up once we finish here."

They were checked in and room keys were pulled from the cabinet behind the wall. "lf you take the lift over there," he added, pointing to the corridor behind Charles, "you'll find your way easily enough."

Elsie thanked him as she and Charles took their keys, leaving the counter (and subsequently leaving a small group of people who were about to become _very _upset in a _very _short period of time) behind.

"Fifth floor," Elsie said, looking over at Charles. "And you, Mr. Carson?"

"Sixth," he replied. "And I cannot wait to land in that bed and fall asleep, I don't mind saying."

"Agreed. Just don't sleep _too _long or you'll never get over the jet lag."

* * *

Three hours later, Elsie heard a rather panicked knocking at her door. She'd just stepped out of the shower and was clad in the luxurious robe provided by the hotel, and she felt a bit more human than she had when she'd arrived at the hotel. Peering through the peephole, she found a very disgruntled-looking gentleman on the other side of the door.

"Mr. Carson?"

"Mrs. Hughes, might I come in for a moment?"

She looked down at the robe, then glanced at her suitcase, which lay open on the floor. "Give me just a minute to get some clothes ..."

"Ah." He cleared his throat. "Of course."

Elsie pulled a pair of comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt from the suitcase before turning the lock and handle of the door, opening it slightly so that he'd be able to come in. "Here; take the door and give me five seconds to disappear." As soon as she felt him grab hold of the handle, she rushed into the bathroom and shut the door. "All clear!" she called out.

Charles pushed the door open _very _slowly. "I'm coming in," he called, and her muffled reply from behind the closed bathroom door confirmed to him that it was safe. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, but it's rather important."

"What's happened?" Her voice was easier to hear now that he was inside, the room door closed and bolted and keeping the noise confined to the corridor.

"A flood," he said. "In my room."

Elsie cracked the door open, sure she didn't hear him correctly. "A _what?_"

"A broken pipe," he clarified, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The floor is completely flooded - and I don't mean merely wet on the carpet, but visibly puddling water all about. I reported it, and because it's so serious they cannot allow me to keep the room."

"How could that have happened?" Elsie was flummoxed.

"I fell into bed as soon as we got in. When I got up an hour or so ago, I showered and everything was fine. But when I turned the sink on for water in order to shave, all seemed normal for a few moments and then the pipe just sort of let go. I tried to explain to the hotel that I honestly just need a bed - the shower water gave me no trouble, and I could use the public loo downstairs in the lobby if I had to - but it's in violation of some health code to leave me in there."

"I'm sure it is," she confirmed. "And that's horrible. Have they offered you an alternative elsewhere in the city?"

"They tried, but apparently a great deal of people have secured rooms in the last few hours," he grumbled. "It's not looking good. I think I'm going to call Robert and see if his club has something in the area."

"Not if it's the SoHo you're talking about," Elsie replied, exiting the bathroom now that she was fully dressed and had dried her hair a bit with a towel. She crossed the room and pulled an elastic from her bag, tossed her hair up in a loose bun, and tucked herself in on the chair across from him. "They haven't managed to open one in Dublin yet; Cora told me that just last week. Robert was annoyed because his membership renewal has rolled around and nothing new has been added."

"I'd hate to ask him anyhow, truth be told," Charles confided. "But I would have, if it meant not having to return to the airport for the overnight."

Elsie chewed her lip thoughtfully as she contemplated the poor man seated before her. _Yesterday, _she reminded herself. _You just met him __**yesterday.**_ But he interested her, there was no doubt about that. And Elsie knew that he must be a man of excellent character for Cora and Robert to hold him in high esteem.

"You could stay here," she ventured slowly. "The sofa you're sitting on opens up, and this suite is perfectly big enough for two people who are stranded for one evening."

Charles glanced around, his eyes spying the large bed in the bedroom, indeed separate from the room where they were currently seated. It wasn't something he'd ever consider in almost any other circumstance. But the option of the sofa was better than the chair he'd find at the airport.

_Still ..._

"I don't think so, but I appreciate the offer," he said aloud.

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Mr. Carson. Truly. But honestly, I am quite certain I'd be safe with you, and no one even needs to know. And Cora never would have spoken so highly of you if I couldn't trust you."

Charles quirked an eyebrow at her. "Just what did she say, exactly?"

"Oh ... you know," Elsie said evasively. "That you're a nice man, and that you're their friend." She smirked, looking down at the floor. "I'd already learned _that_ much having met you."

"Well … Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," he replied quietly. "It's a generous offer, and I'm most appreciative."

"I think you should call me 'Elsie.' If we're to be sharing a room, we'd better get that out of the way now. No more 'Mrs. Hughes.'" She smiled a bit shyly at him.

"Nor 'Mrs. Burns'?" he asked before he could stop himself. He watched as her smile turned downward. "I'm sorry," he added suddenly. "I don't know why I said that."

But she shook her head. "It's fine. I've not quite gotten around to changing it back yet on all of my identification." She paused. "Just Elsie, alright?"

He nodded and watched Elsie as she headed to the small refrigerator by the desk. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked him.

Charles glanced at his watch. "It's just gone one," he said. "How about a drink and something to eat in the restaurant downstairs? I've made dinner reservations for eight out in the city," he told her. "That is, if you're still interested?"

"In the place Robert loves? Absolutely … Charles?" She smiled mischievously. "Or Charlie, perhaps?"

He got to his feet. "Definitely the former. So … Does this mean my mind's been made up for me?"

And, in that instant, everything was easy between them once again.

"Welcome to room 5592, Charles. We'll need to get that extra key from the desk."

* * *

Over the course of a relatively light lunch, neither Elsie nor Charles could believe how much they talked. Elsie had the sense that since she'd sat beside him on the plane hours before, they'd just been continuing the same conversation: broken marriages, childhood homes, career struggles and triumphs, their parents. Nothing seemed off the table.

"How long has it been since you split from Alice?" Elsie asked, and Charles was surprised not to feel the familiar pang in his heart when he thought about it.

"Thirteen years?" he said, doing the mental math. "More or less, anyhow. It was before I came on board with Grantham, but not too much earlier."

"I see."

"Perhaps just over thirteen, now that I think about it," he said. "She died a few months back, and Charlie got in touch to let me know."

There was a pause, and Elsie looked at him curiously. "Charlie was the other man's name, too? What an odd coincidence."

He nodded. "It appears she felt she'd made the wrong choice in that entire situation," he explained, his eyes a bit sad. "'Felt she'd given up the better man,' he said. But it doesn't matter now; it doesn't change anything."

"It seems from where I'm standing that it may have changed _you,_" she replied. "I imagine I'd have been floored to have gotten a similar message from Ivy regarding Joe."

"Ah, but you had happy years in the beginning, from what you've told me. Between Alice and myself, it always seemed to be a struggle."

The waiter dropped off the check then, and Elsie snatched it up before Charles could touch it, filling in her room number and closing the little folio again, holding it in her lap to await the waiter's return. "I'm just putting it on the room," she said. "With any luck, the airline will pick it all up and not look twice."

Charles laughed. "I suppose they owe us lunch," he said. "And dinner is my treat. I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."

"If the food is good, I can't see why I wouldn't." She took a deep breath before continuing. "The company will be excellent, obviously."

A memory of his last time spent at the restaurant flashed in his mind, and he found he couldn't wait for her to see the view - and, perhaps, enjoy a bit of a walk afterwards. "It's quite a lovely place," he said eventually. "And the food _is_ superb."

"It's not terribly formal, is it?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it casual, but it's by no means excessively elegant."

"Hmm." She mentally reviewed the contents of her suitcase. "I think I can sort out something."

"I'm sure whatever you choose will be just fine. I'm going to head out for a bit of a stroll, I think, and then I'll pick up my luggage from the storage room on my way back up."

"That works. I have that last bit of work to catch up on, and I need to get in touch with my assistant and have her update my London schedule."

"Well, then, I suppose it'll be good to have me out of your hair for a while."

Elsie watched him as he got up from the table, then smiled as he hurried over to help her with her chair and walked her to the elevator. She got in, and just before the door closed, she winked. "Don't forget that key, Charles."

He watched as the door closed before her, and breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding in came out in a loud sigh.

Charles felt very, very lucky indeed. He pulled out his phone and found Robert's number.

It occurred to him that before their dinner date he might want to find out _precisely _what it was that Cora had said to Elsie.

As he waited for Robert's response, he wondered just when it was that he'd begun thinking of dinner with Elsie as a _date. _She'd teased about it earlier, but it certainly didn't feel like a joke anymore.

_Tbc _


	5. Chapter 5

**My thanks to the folks who reviewed the last chapter. FF was acting wonky and I wasn't sure the update even went through at first! Special shout-out to John who pops in now and again with lovely comments which I wholeheartedly appreciate, but to whom I cannot seem to reply directly anymore.**

**We've arrived at the "date." I hope you enjoy this one - please do let me know if you do. :) There will be one more brief chapter after this one to close out this fic.**

**CSotA**

* * *

About halfway into his walk, Charles realized he had forgotten to give his suit to the hotel staff to be pressed. He turned to rush back to the hotel, then remembered he didn't have his own room anymore and his luggage currently sat in storage. With a sigh, he stopped in the nearest men's clothing shop, hoping to find something off the rack that would be appropriate. The restaurant wasn't terribly formal, as he'd told Elsie, but he didn't want to look shabby.

_Elsie._

He smiled to himself as he flicked through the jackets. Finding one that seemed suitable, he moved over to the neckties, where a sales associate was waiting to assist him.

* * *

Elsie was flustered, and it annoyed her. She'd gone back to the room after lunch and pulled out the two dresses she'd had in mind for dinner, but they hadn't fared as well as she'd hoped in the suitcase and were in rough shape. She'd remained relatively calm during the brief phone call to the front desk asking for assistance from the hotel's laundry service, and while the woman who'd appeared at Elsie's door not three minutes afterward had assured her that the dresses would both be ready in time, Elsie hadn't been too sure.

She'd managed to focus on work: a call to Anna to reorder her schedule, several other calls to various persons as she finalized plans for an upcoming banquet in New York City, and quite a few updates made to the files she'd brought along. Her preoccupation with checking her watch was unusual, and it gave her pause as she wondered why she was so nervous.

_Charles. _

She smiled to herself as she stacked her folders back into her bag. Just then, the much-awaited knock came at her door. Elsie opened it gratefully, fully expecting the person on the other side to be tall, blonde, and holding two freshly-laundered dresses encased in plastic bags.

Well, at least he was tall.

* * *

"You're back early," she uttered, and Charles looked at her sheepishly, a garment bag over one arm while his other had his suitcase in tow, two bags balance precariously atop it.

"You look as though you were expecting someone else."

Elsie stepped aside and took his briefcase off of his bag as he passed by. "I hoped you'd be someone from laundry. I sent my dresses down as soon as we finished lunch, but evidently they're not ready yet."

Charles was standing in the middle of the sitting area, listening closely as she spoke. He checked his watch, but just as he opened his mouth to reply, there was another knock.

"Finally," Elsie whispered, relieved, and while she was retrieving the dresses and handing over a tip to the man delivering them, Charles managed to find a spot to hang the garment bag.

"All set then?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Absolutely fine."

"Good."

"You got your key?"

"I did, but I knocked because it's not really my room and …" He couldn't finish, but Elsie figured he didn't want a repeat of the last time he arrived suddenly at her door. Both stood awkwardly for a few seconds, neither sure just how to proceed.

"I put my suit in the coat closet for the moment," Charles finally managed. "I'll need a quick shower, I think, after my walk. Would that be alright?"

"Of course," she said, chuckling. "Of course it's alright. Why don't you take your bag into the bedroom, then, and you can take a moment to get yourself sorted?"

His eyes grew wide, and Elsie realized her omission. "Oh, heavens - that was rather awkward. I've moved _my _things out here," she told him, motioning to the corner by the sofa. Indeed, her own bags had been pushed out of the way. "You'll take the bedroom, I think, and I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Absolutely not!" he protested. "It's bad enough that I'm barging in -"

"Stop," Elsie said, cutting him off. "The bed is so much bigger than the sofa, and you're obviously not going to fit comfortably out here. I, on the other hand, will be fine. I'll hear no arguments, Mr. Carson."

Charles stood stock still as she was speaking, not sure if it was worth it to argue. In the end, he decided against it and thanked her quietly. He wheeled his suitcase into the bedroom, lifted it onto the rack and opened it, and withdrew what he needed before heading to the bathroom to shower.

Elsie ducked into the bedroom to change while he was showering. Of the two dresses she'd sent down, she had no idea which to pick. A quick peek into the garment bag he'd hung in the closet told her his own attire was a light grey suit with a crisp, dark blue shirt, which made her choice simple. Returning to the bedroom, she selected the dark green dress from her own bag and put it on. A touch-up to her makeup and a bit of attention to her hair, both of which she'd do once Charles had relinquished the bathroom, and she'd be all set.

It was another five minutes before Charles emerged, and Elsie tactfully busied herself with something on the table as he headed, clad in the second hotel robe, to the bedroom. She smirked knowingly, not moving; five seconds later he emerged again, grumbling to himself as he retrieved the garment bag from the closet, headed back to the bedroom, and firmly shut the door.

It didn't take long before they were both ready, and Elsie turned when she heard the door open. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Charles, though.

His hair was a bit more casual that it had appeared when they'd first met, likely a result of being stranded in a strange place and out of routine. She liked it, she decided. And the suit fit him very well, indeed.

Charles cleared his throat. "We appear to match."

"Well, I may have cheated a bit and peeked at your new purchase whilst you were in the shower," Elsie admitted. "But I'm glad I did as my other option would have looked really awful with that necktie."

Charles smirked. "Are we ready?"

She winked at him. "I do believe so … Charles."

* * *

They walked to the restaurant, Charles pointing out various things of interest along the way. When the reached a cobblestone-covered part of the pathway, he offered Elsie his elbow; she took it gratefully, flashing him a smile and squeezing his arm lightly.

When the cobbles ended and the path smoothed once again, she didn't relinquish her hold on him.

_And why should I? _Elsie thought. _Nothing wrong with having a lovely night out with a handsome gentleman. And he __**is **__a gentleman …_

Charles had been saying something, and Elsie realized it a moment too late.

"Sorry," she said. "Off with the fairies."

His eyes were focused on her face, but peripherally he saw how the fading sunlight was bouncing off her hair, and the heightened color in her face only added to her beauty.

"What is it?" Elsie cocked her head, curious.

"I said you look breathtaking," he said softly, "and I'm flattered that you're my date for the evening."

That took her aback. "Well." She felt a warmth creep up her neck and toward her cheeks. "Thank you. And the feeling is mutual, I assure you."

They walked on. A few more moments were spent in thoughtful silence, but they soon turned a corner and happened upon the restaurant.

"Oh, Charles," Elsie murmured. "This is really beautiful!"

"And we have Robert to thank for it," he replied with a smirk. "Although truly, the food and the ambience are both remarkable."

They entered the restaurant and Charles gave the maitre d' his name.

"Ah," the man said approvingly, "the outdoor seating is lovely - and fairly quiet this evening, so far."

Elsie followed him around several corners and tried to get a feel for the restaurant she was being led through: _lots of wood, _she remarked. _It's very cozy. _She passed an old whisky barrel that was worked into the decor and went up a step. But then she saw the view out the back of the restaurant, which had previously been blocked by the building itself, and stopped short - so quickly, in fact, that Charles stepped to the side to avoid bumping into her.

The outdoor seating was on a wooden patio. A huge pergola covered most of the area and had tiny lights threaded through it, enough to cast a soft, warm light over the whole area. There were small patio heaters to be used when needed, but the night was mild and therefore only one was turned on. Elsie had brought a light sweater but didn't think she'd need it, especially when Charles's face lit up when he was handed the wine list. The wine would warm her, she knew.

Elsie leaned back in her seat and watched him peruse the list. His face was relaxed, at ease, and she knew whatever he chose would be spectacular. A memory crept into her mind, of her last milestone birthday spent with Joe, when he had handed _her _the wine list because he knew next to nothing about wines and would more than likely have chosen something she wouldn't enjoy. She hadn't minded - had _preferred _to take control of that at the time - but it was a welcome turn of events that she wasn't in that place tonight.

Elsie made her menu choices after posing a couple of clarifying questions to their server, and then the wine arrived; Charles had chosen a light wine to open with, followed by a red that Elsie had never tried before to go with their dinner.

"Two bottles," Elsie chuckled. "My goodness."

"We deserve it," Charles returned. "Besides, we probably won't finish the first, and we can always take a cab back if we need to."

"True."

They looked out from where they sat, their gaze being drawn past the deck (which was, as promised, thinly populated with patrons) and out to the small park behind it. There was a very small side street that separated the two, but not one vehicle had driven down it since they'd sat down.

"We could walk in the park afterward, if you'd like." His voice was quiet, almost shy.

Elsie looked back at him and smiled, giving him a gentle nod. "I'd love to; it looks very inviting."

"Robert proposed to Cora in that park," Charles said. "Did you know that?"

Elsie's eyes grew wide. "I did not, although now that you bring it up, I knew they were visiting with friends when that happened."

He nodded. "Yes. She was so occupied with planning their trip that I gather she was completely flabbergasted that he'd planned a surprise."

"Well," Elsie said, giving him a knowing look as she reached for her glass, "Robert isn't exactly the best secret-keeper in the world."

Charles laughed, a deep, booming sound that Elsie loved. It was the first time he'd really laughed out loud since she'd met him, and she wondered if it just didn't happen that often, perhaps part of the reserve that he seemed to exhibit always.

"He's not - that's true." Charles sipped his own wine. "What about you, Elsie Hughes?"

"Am I a good keeper of secrets, do you mean?"

He nodded, curious.

"I am, I think. People do seem to share a fair few of them with me, anyhow."

"I've known you one whole day now and I think I've told you two," he half-joked.

"Not to worry," she replied softly, her blue eyes shining brightly as she looked across the table. "Your secrets are safe with me."

"I'm beginning to realize that."

She smiled. "Good."

* * *

Dinner was, as expected, spectacular. Elsie felt slightly guilty at the extravagance of it all, but Charles hushed her with a reminder that she was allowing him to take over some of her personal space instead of being cast to an airport lounge for the next twelve hours. He was right, she knew, and it would have been extremely poor manners for her to not accept his thankful generosity.

They exited the restaurant and headed for the small park. Certain parts were in beautiful bloom, and they headed down a well-lit path to their left.

"I'm having a lovely evening, Charles. I can't remember the last time I was invited to dinner and enjoyed such pleasant, easy company."

"Likewise."

They took a few more steps, Charles having matched his gait and stride to hers, and came to a stop by a small pond.

Elsie chewed on her lip, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. They were standing so close, but she wasn't sure …

… and then she was.

She reached out tentatively, tucking her small hand in his, and sighed happily as he took it, squeezing her fingers gently. His hands were so soft, and it surprised her a bit.

"I - I never do this," he told her quietly, hesitantly, almost. "I mean … Meeting you, a date the very next night …"

"Sharing a hotel room," she joked. "I would hope not, Mr. Carson."

He turned to her, not letting go of her hand. "Do you do that often?"

"Do what?"

"Tease about something when you don't know what else to say?"

Her lip disappeared a bit again, and before he could stop himself, Charles reached up and tugged gently with his thumb, releasing it.

"And this," he added, tapping his thumb gently on her lip, "when you're contemplative. Or perhaps ... caught out?"

_That _made her giggle. Well, that and the wine, perhaps.

"I suppose I do," she admitted.

They walked on a bit more, the charged energy between them making them slightly nervous. There was precious little noise in the city, a miracle for which Elsie was grateful. They passed two couples, one young man who was jogging with his dog, and an elderly gentleman as they meandered around. Finally, Elsie felt she'd gathered her thoughts a bit. She waited until they made it back to the pond once again and tugged a bit on his arm, pulling him over to the side of the path, and looked up at his face.

"I don't do this either, Charles. As in, not _ever. _Joe was the boy from the farm next door. I knew him my entire life, went out with him a few times when we were in school, and we just sort of ended up together at some point. I've barely dated, and I don't quite know how it's all supposed to go." She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "But I'd be a liar if I told you I'm not very attracted to you, to the idea of spending more time with you, if you're interested."

Charles looked down at where their hands were still joined and brushed his thumb over hers.

"I am. You'll be in London a month?"

"Tentatively, yes, but there's an option to transfer there permanently if I choose. I'm relatively close to retirement, but I don't think they want to lose me just yet, if I can be so bold as to say that without sounding terribly full of myself. If I requested to transfer and was denied, they know I'd likely just retire a bit early."

"Which would be their terrible loss."

She tilted her head, acknowledging the truth in his words.

"Well, a month is a good amount of time to get to know one another better, I think. See where we end up?"

Elsie smiled at him. "I would love to see where we'll end up. If tonight is any indication, that is."

She was still nervous, and he sensed it. She dropped her eyes to his chest, seemingly focused on the patters in his tie. For a few seconds, Charles wasn't sure what to do. But then she looked up at him again, and the deep blue of her eyes which had been so mesmerizing to him when they'd first met on the plane pulled him in. He leaned downward a bit as his free hand landed at the small of her back, and pulled her in for a soft, sweet kiss.

Somewhere in the pond behind them, a fish jumped, making a splash in the water.

* * *

They walked hand-in-hand back to the hotel, the knowledge that the precious time they had together was coming to a close. When they returned to the room things seemed uncomfortable once again for a few seconds, but Elsie took control and put things right, claiming the bathroom first and fetching some nightclothes from her bag before disappearing and giving them both a few moments to gather their thoughts.

Charles was in the bedroom, pulling at the knot of his necktie, when his phone buzzed on the bureau.

_AND? How did it go? _

He chuckled, and finished removing his tie before picking up the phone to reply.

_Well, I didn't propose if that's what you're asking._

Robert's reply didn't come right away, and Charles knew he must have shown the messages to Cora.

_There's always time for that later, old chap. _

Charles smiled.

_One day at a time. We had a lovely evening, though. Signing off to catch some sleep. Best to Cora and the girls._

He powered off the phone without waiting for a reply, then hung his jacket on the back of the bedroom door and sat down to remove his shoes. He heard the bathroom door open and caught a glimpse of Elsie walking across the room.

"All set?"

"I am, thanks."

Elsie was pulling the pillows off the sofa when he walked out; he tried to help her, but she waved him away.

"I've got it. Had one just like it at home for Becky when she'd visit."

Charles pushed the small coffee table a bit further back to give her some room, then took his turn in the bathroom. By the time he came out again, Elsie was tucked in and reading a book.

"I'll last twenty minutes before passing out," she said, closing the book with her finger stuck in the page. She watched as he approached the sofa bed, clothing in his hand, and glanced at his pajama bottoms and loose tee shirt. "I expected fully buttoned pajamas from you."

"Well, those are a bit warm for this time of year," he replied in total seriousness. "Now come winter …"

Elsie smirked. "I'll remember that. Now, do I get one more kiss before bed?"

His eyebrows raised, and he appeared truly flustered for the first time that evening. "Do you think that's wise?"

She patted the mattress. "Sit."

He obeyed - rather happily, he realized.

Elsie scooted closer to him, then reached up and brushed a wayward lock of hair off his eyebrow as she leaned in.

"That's always falling over my eye," he murmured absentmindedly, his gaze on her lips.

"I noticed," she replied, and she reached up to trail her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "It's very dashing, Mr. Carson."

She pulled gently at his neck to close the gap between them.

"I rather like it when you call me that," he whispered, and his breath brushed her cheek.

Their lips touched softly once, twice. The third time they met, they lingered a bit, and when they moved slightly, Charles drew her bottom lip between his; Elsie made a noise that was something between a hum and a sigh, and for one brief, sweet moment, Charles felt that everything was perfect in his world.

Neither let the kiss go any further, both respectful of the slow pace that they each wanted and, admittedly, needed. Charles tipped his forehead to touch Elsie's.

"Good night."

"Good night."

He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek and then got up off the sofa bed.

"Do I need to lock the door? Will I be safe?" He flicked his eyebrows up and down, and Elsie laughed.

"Perhaps to lock yourself in? I feel rather vulnerable out here, I think. Will _I _be safe with _you, _Mr. Carson?"

He stood up straighter, his shoulders back, his face almost serious.

"Exceptionally safe, I promise."

She tucked back in with her book when he turned the corner and disappeared out of her sight, closing the door behind himself.

Moments later, she heard a soft _'click.'_

"Smart man, Mr. Carson," she murmured. "Smart man."


	6. Epilogue

_**Six months later; a Wednesday morning**_

It was cold in the bedroom when Elsie woke. She opened the one eye that wasn't stuffed into her pillow and looked around. For a few seconds, she wasn't quite sure where she was.

Then she remembered.

She lifted her head and looked over to the other side of the bed. It was still half-made up, the sheets not even untucked, and her heart felt heavy. It had been two days since she'd seen Charles - two days since he'd occupied this bed with her - and their time apart, while not unexpected, felt interminable.

She rolled onto her back and tried to go back to sleep, but it was impossible. She'd always been an early riser anyhow, so why should it be any different in a new home? When her feet hit the floor, the coldness of it reminded her that she needed to pick out an area rug after work. Donning her robe, she ducked into the bathroom. But when she walked back into the bedroom again, she was blown over by intense, intimate memories from the other night.

He'd never stayed the night before. They'd never ... well ... until last Sunday. It had been a _long_ time in coming but it had felt right to take things slowly, to get to really know one another and determine if there was a future for them.

She held her hand out in front of her and saw the square diamond sparkling in the light, and she smiled. Once he managed to propose, it had all fallen into place rather quickly in a matter of hours ...

_Elsie was tucking in the last corner of the sheet when he spoke. His words echoed in the room, which was still empty save the bed and one wardrobe. With no curtains or carpet, it still felt bare._

"_I thought it right to wait until we'd gotten you moved into your new home," Charles was saying. "Until you'd made some decisions, big decisions, and we were sure you'd be staying in London, even though I know you've been staying in London for the past several months." He was rambling, which was so unlike him, her man of few words._

"_To wait for what?" She was completely flummoxed as she reached for the duvet and tried to focus on what he was saying._

_He reached into his pocket and produced a small, blue velvet box, and she nearly fell over. She dropped the duvet again and it fluttered down to the floor._

"_Charlie?" Her voice was a whisper, her throat suddenly dry, and her hands began to shake as he got down on one knee before her._

"_You've told me so many times that you didn't want me to end up being stuck with you," he said. "I know that had become a bit of a joke, but it also seemed to be a real fear of yours." He reached up for her hand, and she plopped down on the bed in front of which she'd just been standing, no longer able to support herself at that moment. "Elsie May, I can assure you that I very much __**do **__want to be stuck with you. Forever." He opened the box, somehow managing to do it with one hand as his other one was clasping hers. Nestled inside was a diamond solitaire - a square one, which was slightly unusual, but he'd wanted something different, tailored, and a bit more elegant._

_She didn't speak. __**Couldn't **__speak. Her mouth opened, then closed again, and her hand flew to her chest._

"_Elsie?"_

_She took a deep breath, then another. The entire scene was so different to when Joe had proposed, just like everything else she'd noticed about Charles since they'd first met. _

"_I won't press you. If you don't wish to answer right now, we can wait."_

_And it just felt __**right.**_

"_Yes," she whispered. _

"_Yes," he repeated shakily. "To which part, exactly?"_

_"Yes. Of course I'll marry you, you old booby."_

_He pulled her up and drew her into his arms. But Elsie pulled him back towards the bed again - the one they'd barely finished making up - and kissed him firmly. The look in his eyes was priceless, making her laugh even as the anticipation ran a shiver down her spine. She watched his eyes grow darker, questioning ..._

"_Yes, Charlie," she cooed. "That is, if you've nowhere else to be for the next few hours?"_

"_Just here, helping you to unpack," he replied breathlessly. "Are you sure?"_

"_I've never been so sure of anything," she replied, tugging at the front of his jeans to pull him even closer. "The unpacking can wait. That is, if you want me ..."_

She put on the kettle, and just as it began to hiss she heard her phone buzz on the counter and snatched it up.

-Good morning, beautiful.

-Hi there.

-How'd you sleep? X

-Not as well as the other night.

-Cheeky! I miss you. Dinner tonight?

-Absolutely. Takeaway here? X

There was a pause, and her heart gave a bit of a jolt, wondering if he'd rather be at his. It wasn't that she had anything against his place, but it was small and there was more traffic on the road outside and she knew she'd have trouble sleeping there. With a big meeting tomorrow involving a new vendor, it wouldn't be ideal. But then his reply came through.

-Sounds wonderful. X

The kettle boiled and she switched it off when her phone buzzed again.

-Should I pack a bag?

She smiled, nibbling on her lip as she did so, contemplating her answer.

-I think you should pack them all.

She paused, then added a little smiley emoji with heart eyes, knowing the entire existence and liberal usage of emojis drove him mad.

-Funny!

-Is that the heart eyes or the suggestion of co-habitating that you're laughing at, Charlie?

-Ha! The silly little face thing. As for the other, let's discuss it tonight, alright?

Elsie wasn't sure she'd read that right, so she went back over it two more times. She had expected him to drag his feet about moving in, at least until they were properly wed. Evidently she'd gotten the wrong end of that stick.

-Alright.

-I've got those meeting shortly. Call you at lunch?

-Absolutely. Love you.

-I love you, too. X

She waited, but no more messages came. By the time she got settled at the kitchen table with her breakfast, Elsie was already imagining all of his things next to hers. She'd need another wardrobe, which he could bring, and perhaps a larger cabinet in the master bath. From what he'd told her, he didn't seem to use a home office much. If she was careful about how she set hers up, they could probably share.

Sipping her tea, she wondered if he'd object to a January wedding. Elsie had always liked January. It was a time of new beginnings.

* * *

Charles clicked off his phone and tossed it into the pocket of his briefcase. He still couldn't believe the woman he'd proposed to had accepted.

He also couldn't believe how magical that night had been. It seemed such a silly word, _magical_, and he had never been one for sentimentality, but that was simply how he felt. Every kiss they'd shared, every touch, her gasping in his ear when he'd touched her _just so, _and the way his unintentional growl had seemed to spur her on at one point, pulling him in further ...

He reached for the ice water he had on the counter and drained it in one long gulp before putting the glass in the dishwasher, grabbing up his keys and briefcase, and heading out the door. He had a half hour booked in for lunch and he was already looking forward to talking to Elsie and hearing her voice.

Charles had big plans for their future, a lot of which he was setting up today with his personal attorney. But he also had hopes for the small aspects of married life. It had gone without saying that he'd sell his home and move into Elsie's, given that she'd just bought hers but also because it afforded them more space and a larger garden. He dreamed of spending their springs and summers filling it with colorful flowers and lush green things, perhaps putting in a small veg patch by the back patio. She'd just shaken her head as she'd listened to him bang on about it all, but there had been so much love in her eyes that he remembered thinking he could tell her anything at all, spill all his secrets; as long as she looked at him just like that, for always, he'd be just fine.

Traffic was light, and he made it to his attorney's office much earlier than anticipated. It didn't take more than an hour to set up everything he wanted, to have Elsie added to his accounts and to the will. She had just recently taken her maiden name back and wasn't planning to change it to his, but he didn't even care about that. It just made it easier to take care of all of the 'business things' immediately. When he moved into her place, she'd be adding his name to the deed. They'd discussed all that the morning after ... well, everything. In the two days since, he'd mentally packed up the contents of his home and placed a call to Jimmy Kent to list it on the market. He hadn't wanted to say anything aloud at first, but now that they were engaged, Charles saw no real point in living separately.

He looked at his watch and sighed. It was a long way to go still until noon. He flipped through the files in his bag until he located the one he was searching for, pulled it out, and scanned the figures one last time. Following his appointment with the attorney was another with his financial advisor.

With any luck, he and Elsie would be married and semi-retired in the next year.

Charles realized as he sat between appointments that they hadn't even discussed the _when _for the wedding. It had been enough to have heard her say _yes, _honestly. But he wanted to ask her and thought maybe he'd do so on their lunch call. He hoped for something sooner rather than later, and the strangeness of that made him smile. They'd both been so careful to take things slowly at first, but now that they'd crossed almost all of the thresholds, so to speak, he found himself impatient for the rest of the 'happily ever after.'

He knew deep down that she felt the same. Life was short, and they'd spent too much of it apart to waste even a moment of the time that remained to them.

* * *

_**2 January**_

The water was frigid as it washed onto the sand, but Elsie had insisted on a beach walk before they fell into bed for what might be the rest of their honeymoon, and Charles had been happy to oblige. He'd managed not to roll his eyes when she insisted on putting her feet in the water, but he had drawn the line at putting his own in there.

"I'm done," she said after about three waves washing over her feet. "But I just had to do that at least once."

Charles held her arm as she stuffed her feet back into her boots, then slipped his arm over her shoulders before they turned back toward the hotel. "You seem fairly certain we won't be back on the sand before we leave."

Elsie stopped walking, forcing him to turn around to face her. She reached for him and pulled him close, her fingers threaded through his hair, and kissed him sweetly.

"We have so much time to make up for, Mr. Carson," she purred. "Our hotel has room service, doesn't it? So I see no reason to leave it very often."

"But there are surely things to see?" He was teasing, and she knew it.

"Well," she said, taking his hand as they resumed their walk back to the hotel, "that depends on where you're planning to look."

He leaned down, and if it hadn't been for his deep voice, his words would have been lost in the wind.

"I'm planning to look everywhere, Ms. Hughes," he said, and they walked on.

"Do you think we'll always be like this?" Elsie asked when they were almost at the steps of the hotel.

"I hope so."

"Even when we're old and grey?"

Charles turned to his wife and smiled; her eyes were fixed on his own silver hair. "Yes, love. Even then."

_**The End**_

* * *

**I hope you've all enjoyed this fun little modern foray, all spawned from that small tumblr prompt. Please leave a note if you are so inclined. See you all soon with some Christmas fun! Wishing you and your families a wonderful season of Thanksgiving, wherever you are. I am thankful for this fandom, and most certainly for all of you.**

**xxx, **

**CSotA**


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